


RE:Humanize

by kishafisha



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Canon (DBH), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishafisha/pseuds/kishafisha
Summary: In the year 2037, a new android prototype is leased to the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit by CyberLife for extensive field testing. Avidly against the addition of an android onto his team, yet unable to refuse, Jack Crawford enlists the aid of Dr. Hannibal Lecter to act as the android’s handler.Inspired by art from Ladybird Sparrow for the Hannigram Reverse Bang 2020.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 78
Collections: Hannigram_Reverse_Bang_2020





	RE:Humanize

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hannigram Reverse Bang 2020 (Art)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684843) by [Ladybird_Sparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladybird_Sparrow/pseuds/Ladybird_Sparrow). 



> Oof...guys, this fic. I really went through it writing this and what I present to you now actually started as a simple flashback that decided to spiral out of control when I got An Idea. So instead of writing the manipulative romance I’d planned, it ended up a pre-romance origin story...which I now want to continue, because now I’m dying to get to where I intended to go! If you read my earlier promo, you’ll notice that scene is no longer in this, but it is already saved in a separate file I’ve started for a sequel/continuation.
> 
> If you’re unfamiliar with DBH, I hope that I’ve explained enough of the world that you aren’t terribly confused. If you ARE familiar with DBH, this takes place little less than a year before the events of the game.
> 
> Some quick notes: 1. Will is an android and therefore thinks of himself as an ‘it’, but that changes as he begins to deviate. 2. Will is an android and therefore doesn’t think in the same way as a human, so you’ll notice [these brackets] when he’s processing something in a very android-like way. 3. Hannibal is a little OOC and if you think his backstory is similar to what I wrote in A L’Envers, then...thank you for reading that, too. 4. I couldn’t decide between rating this T or M due to the murdery-ness, so I erred on the side of caution.
> 
> Many thanks to my beloved ravenfyre for fixing me with your beta work and huge thank you to Ladybird Sparrow for creating such lovely and inspiring art and for being so very patient with me as I dealt with a pandemic, joblessness, protesting, cockroaches and all the various madness that’s accompanied this accursed year. (Also a big thanks to the mods for letting me push our posting date back when I got overwhelmed.)
> 
> As always, additional warnings are available in the end notes, but may contain spoilers.

The first recorded moments of Will’s memory were of Special Agent Jack Crawford’s [Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Science Unit - Agent-in-Charge - 114 BMP, rising] voice asking, “What the hell is this?”

This was followed shortly by Special Investigator Kade Prurnell [Department of Justice - Office of the Inspector General - 96 BPM, rising] answering, “What does it look like, Jack? It’s an android.”

As an android, Will was aware that its model had a great deal of memory data that existed prior to his current version. In the first instances of Will’s current iteration, it had reviewed the files stored within its archive, referencing them as it stepped out of the CyberLife capsule and its systems came fully online. At its temple, the circular LED that comprised its external feedback biocomponent flashed green as it finished the initial system checks. The LED served no purpose to Will’s own processes, but provided a visual indication as to his status as an android. Not to be confused with a person.

“I can _see_ that it’s an android,” Crawford seethed. “What I don’t know is why it’s being offloaded in my office.” He glared at the CyberLife handlers as they accepted Prurnell’s signature and closed up the capsule. “Hey, don’t leave this thing here!”

The CyberLife technician looked at Prurnell uncertainly, but she dismissed them with a wave of her hand. “You can go. The android stays. Jack, meet the newest member of your unit.”

“That thing is _not_ a part of my team.”

“Stop calling him a _‘thing’_ , Jack,” scolded Dr. Alana Bloom [Georgetown University - Professor of Psychology - Consultant, FBI and CyberLife - 78 BMP, steady]. “This is Will. He’s a prototype that I’ve been helping CyberLife fine-tune for the past eight months, but he needs to be tested in the field.”

This proved correct as Will reviewed the reference file earmarked in the psychologist’s name and the numerous interviews completed over several versions of its core programming. Dr. Bloom was pleasant and pragmatic, though she liked to attribute an excess of humanity to Will.

“Find another field,” Crawford said with finality.

“This isn’t a request, Jack,” Prurnell snapped coldly. “Will is now a part of the Behavioral Science Unit until the Department of Justice decides whether or not to have CyberLife move forward on mass production. If you no longer have an interest in leading this unit, we can have that conversation, but the android remains regardless.”

Will had remained quiet through all of this, but determined this to be an apt moment to initiate first contact. “I look forward to working with you, Agent Crawford.”

Hands braced on his desk, Crawford ignored Will to instead glare at Prurnell for a long, tense moment, then sat down with a sigh, steepling his hands before him. “Why now? Why my unit? Why this android?”

A small, victorious smile crossed Prurnell’s thin face as she took a seat herself, crossing her ankles primly. Though both Crawford and Dr. Bloom preferred a more classic turn to their wardrobe, Prurnell’s outfit was aggressively modern, so much so that one half expected to see an LED on her temple. There was one other chair before Crawford’s desk, but Dr. Bloom remained at Will’s side in an obvious show of support. No one offered the chair to Will.

“The manufacture and sale of androids has increased by twenty percent in the last year, Jack. CyberLife has sold fifty million units in the US alone, and three times that worldwide. If the government doesn’t actively pursue new and innovative ways to utilize AI, we will very quickly find ourselves falling as a global power. The FBI already has a number of androids in use, what’s one more?”

“Combat units, archivists, janitorial and maintenance staff, and processing clerks,” Crawford pointed out. “None of which are what _that_ appears to be.”

“Will is special, Jack,” Dr. Bloom said emphatically, putting a hand on its arm. “The first of his kind. An empath.” At Crawford’s doubtful and openly distrustful look, she sighed and folded her arms stubbornly. “Will, read the room for me, please.”

“Yes, Dr. Bloom,” Will agreed and the cycling LED indicator spun from blue to amber as its empathic protocols initiated.

[Alana Bloom was frustrated and determined to have her way, yet hesitant to leave Will in Jack Crawford’s care. The earlier, unanswered question of, “Why my unit?” clearly rested with her. Something had happened between them, a trust had been broken and Crawford no longer carried her confidence. A loss of life? Someone Dr. Bloom considered innocent, who she felt, in turn, had been treated as expendable. An injustice that lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her with every breath. **Probability: 82%** ]

[Kade Prurnell had chosen Crawford’s team for Will’s testing based on Dr. Bloom’s recommendation, though not necessarily because she agreed that the transgression had been unwarranted. Rather...it had been bad publicity. Crawford had besmirched the government, had made them appear weak, which she found far more abhorrent than a casualty. People died, but scandal? That lingered. Still, she wasn’t trying to punish Crawford...at least...not to the full extent of her capability. She would have burned him, except that the thought of doing so sat like a leaden weight in her belly. Because she...felt for him personally. Romantically? **Probability: 14%** Sympathetically? **Probability: 93%** ]

[Jack Crawford hated androids. It didn’t take an empathic protocol to make that obvious, but the reasoning behind it...he blamed them for something. Some event whose fault he attributed to androids as a whole. But...not the same event that had landed him out of favor with Prurnell and Dr. Bloom. That came with its own share of rage and bitter shame, but it was overshadowed by a pall from elsewhere. From his home life, his spouse. Infidelity? **Probability: 35%** No...this wasn’t betrayal, this was _grief_ . He was losing his spouse slowly, painfully. And that was why he hated androids so much, not because of what they had done, but for what they represented. Androids didn’t fall ill. They were replaceable. Whoever he was losing...was one of a kind. **Probability: 95%** ]

Coming back to himself, Will looked at Crawford and said, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

Immediately the man stiffened, eyes widening in shock, then anger as his eyes flicked toward Prurnell, though it faltered when he saw that she was equally taken aback.

“She’s ill, dying. There’s nothing to be done and you feel...helpless. It’s the same way you felt when you lost one of your team. No,” Will corrected as it watched the micro-expressions on Crawford’s face. “Someone...someone you mentored. A trainee. Female, young, pretty. That always makes it worse, for some reason. You let her get involved with something you shouldn’t have and you lost her. Losing your wife feels like a punishment.”

“Enough, Will,” Dr. Bloom broke in, putting a hand on its arm again, but this time in suppression rather than support. “Jack, I...I’m so sorry.”

Will realized too late that while Prurnell had been fully aware of the issues involving Crawford’s personal life, Dr. Bloom had not. An oversight. Nodding once, it notated the failure and attached it to the assessment, archiving the data for the next scheduled offload to the CyberLife servers for analysis, adding a HIPAA flag. Though all of this happened in a moment, Crawford remained silent for a long, tense minute, worrying the wedding bang on his finger subconsciously.

“So they’ve made a robot that, what? Thinks and feels like a human?”

“Of course not, don’t be absurd, Jack,” Prurnell said dismissively, nodding toward Will. “It’s still an android. Just a very clever and very _expensive_ machine that you can put to work with far more confidence than you might otherwise misplace.”

Crawford leaned back in his chair and the movement seemed to age him considerably. “So this _is_ about Miriam Lass.”

“Yes, of course it is,” she snapped. “You fucked up. You fucked up and lost an Agent-in-Training _and_ the confidence of your superiors. This placement may be officially coming on Dr. Bloom’s recommendation, but I’m doing this as a favor to _you_ , Jack. You’re a good man who made a dumb decision, but I actually believe you’re the best man for the job.” She pushed herself to her feet, smoothing non-existent wrinkles from her clothing. “Field test your new toy. Get CyberLife the data it needs to make them happy, which will make a lot of people in my office and yours happy. Once CyberLife is satisfied, the DoJ will determine whether or not a federal contract for the Empath line will be in our best interests.”

“I’m not putting my investigations at risk for the sake of a science experiment,” Crawford warned.

“Then give it a handler,” Prurnell retorted. “I don’t care how you do it, so long as it gets done.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked smartly from the room, leaving Crawford to turn his gaze on Dr. Bloom.

“Jack, I can-”

“Explain? Oh, I’m certain that you could, Dr. Bloom. Just as I’m certain I have no interest in hearing it.”

A flush rose in her cheeks, lips pursing together in displeasure. “Think about this reasonably. If this field test is successful, there might _never_ be another Miriam.”

“No, because if we manufacture our agents in a lab, we won’t have a need for trainees, will we? Perhaps we should field test these things in _your_ line of work instead.”

She sighed and finally took a seat, resting her hands in her lap. “If you really want him to have a handler, I can-“

“Are you kidding? I don’t want you anywhere _near_ this,” Crawford told her severely. “You’re not the only consultant the FBI keeps on retainer. I’ll find someone with a little less bias.”

“What’s with the plastic?” a woman questioned when Crawford led Will into the lab a short while later. Will looked at her and his LED flickered green as he accessed her file from the FBI employee archive. Beverly Katz [Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Science Unit - Crime Scene Investigator, Fiber Analysis - 56 BPM, steady] was wearing PPE as she held the hand of a human cadaver mostly hidden beneath a white sheet, scraping gently beneath the nails.

“I am largely silicone-based,” Will corrected, looking around the lab.

Crawford sighed and pointed toward the corner of the room. “Go stand there. Quietly. And _don’t_ touch anything.”

“Um?” Katz lifted her brows curiously, looking at Crawford for further explanation.

“Don’t ask,” he growled. “What have we learned?

Katz looked over at Will, then back at Crawford, gesturing with the hand in her grip. “Really?” At Crawford’s impassive look, she sighed and shook her head, “Oookay. Elise Nichols was strangled to death and impaled post-mortem. Velvet found in the wounds suggests that she was impaled on antlers.”

“Real or synthetic?”

“Real, which means that our killer is either a collector or a poacher.”

“Or rich enough to afford a hunting license, but that seems unlikely.”

This observation came from a dark-haired man as he entered the lab, followed closely by a second, shorter man. A quick scan identified them as Brian Zeller [Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Science Unit - Crime Scene Investigator, Pathology - 74 BPM, steady] and Jimmy Price [Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Science Unit - Crime Scene Investigator, Fingerprint Analysis - 82 BPM, steady], the rest of Crawford’s forensic team.

“What’s with the plastic?” Zeller asked as he spotted Will, brow furrowing.

“Actually, androids are largely silicone-based,” Price interjected.

“Boss doesn’t want to talk about it,” Katz warned, tucking Elise Nichols’ hand back under the sheet.

“Any trace evidence of our killer?” Crawford asked, ignoring Zeller and Price as they looked between the android in the room and their superior.

“No,” Zeller said after it was clear they really weren’t going to discuss Will’s presence. “No saliva, no semen. Whatever the motive, it doesn’t seem to involve assaulting them.”

“How many others?” Will spoke up softly from across the room, causing a system error to flash.

**Software Instability Detected.**

“I thought I told you not to speak,” Crawford nearly growled, giving Will a hard look.

“You ordered me to stand here quietly. I’m speaking quietly,” Will countered, causing Katz to cough as she hid a laugh.

**Software Instability Detected.**

Crawford’s eyes narrowed, but Price spoke up, his expression alight with naked curiosity as he said, “Seven before her.”

“All similar to her in appearance?” Will pressed.

“Assuming this is the same killer,” affirmed Zeller, looking far more wary of Will than either of his counterparts. “This is the first body we’ve recovered.”

“Hardly a recovery when they just put the victim back where they found them,” Katz mused.

“Seven humans, you mean,” said Will. “What about androids?”

“What are you getting at?” Crawford asked, just as Price gasped and exclaimed, “Oh my _God!_ ”

The others turned to look at the man in surprise as he suddenly hurried over to a computer terminal, fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner!” Price lamented and after a few moments, he pulled up the CyberLife website. He swiped through the catalog quickly, then pulled up the listings for retired models. “Ha! There she is… Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the YW500, more commonly known as the ‘Kacey’.”

Price nabbed the image and threw it over to the larger display, revealing an android modeled like a teenage girl with long, dark hair and wide eyes. With a few more taps, Price added the photos of the missing girls and Elise Nichols alongside the android, an undeniable thread of similarity between them.

“Imagine having an entire production line of bodies sharing your face,” Price said wryly, shaking his head a little. “I just have the one and that’s bad enough.”

“They made an android look like a kid?” Zeller asked, his voice hovering somewhere between disgust and disbelief.

“There are even younger-looking models, actually. CyberLife developed ‘child’ androids in response to the increasingly low birth rates of the last few decades,” Price explained.

“Can’t have a family, so you settle for a simulation,” said Katz, folding her arms thoughtfully.

“Must not have been a successful gamble if that model was retired,” Crawford pointed out.

“The YWs were developed at the same time as the YK series - the ones that look about half this age - with the idea that at some point buyers would want to upgrade to an older model. Instead they found that most owners of the YK series couldn’t bear to lose their younger models and the YWs underperformed. They discontinued them within a couple of years of release.”

“CyberLife keeps records of all units sold, as well as any reports made of theft or damage,” Will offered.

Crawford was silent for a long moment as he took it all in, looking between the pictures of the girls as though cataloging the similarities to the Kacey. At last, he looked at Will, his expression now more thoughtful than hostile. “You have my attention. What’s the connection here?”

Will straightened slightly to be acknowledged directly, though looked at the display rather than holding Crawford’s gaze. “The killer believes one of these Kaceys is alive. Special. It’s an insult that people would assume the other Kaceys are anything like this one. But destroying them is pointless...they’re just dolls wearing the same face. The killer _needs_ others to see what they see, needs to revel in the _life_ it loves so dearly through these girls. To-” Will broke off with a sudden insight, running the probability before continuing, “ _consume_ it. There’s something wrong with this one. Something wrong with the meat.”

This analysis was met with varying degrees of shock, disgust, and dawning horror, the latter of which was strongest in Zeller, who paled as he looked over at the covered cadaver. “Her liver…” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat when Crawford looked his way. “It had been removed, then replaced. When I examined it further, I discovered it was cancerous.”

“Contact CyberLife and get us access to those records,” Crawford ordered the trio, then turned to Will. “You, come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Will asked, following after Crawford’s determined stride.

“To get you a handler.”

Dr. Hannibal Lecter [Reference file not found - Creating new profile - 45 BPM, steady] had the markers of a man fallen from grace. These were different from those Agent Crawford bore, both in their visibility and, more than likely, their cause. His graying hair was long and unkempt, his beard marginally less so, and he wore a blood-red sweater that was clearly expensive, but just as clearly creased from heavy use with little washing. He also smelled strongly of wine, a stain of tannin just visible on the seam of his lips.

“Jack,” he said in some surprise as he opened his front door. “This is a surprise.” His tone did not suggest that the visit was a welcome one. His words carried a cadence not found natively, suggesting that English had not been his first or perhaps even his second language. Will guessed that he’d likely immigrated to the US as an adult.

“It’s good to see you, Hannibal,” Crawford told him and Will detected no lie in that. “May I come in?”

“Just you?” Dr. Lecter countered, looking at Will, who did not meet his gaze.

“The android, too. It’s the reason I’m here.”

Dr. Lecter gave them both an inscrutable look, then turned and walked away, leaving the door open in as much welcome as he seemed willing to offer. With a small sigh, Crawford stepped inside, waiting for Will to follow before he shut the door. The house was large and old, built of wood and marble that were the genuine article, rather than synthetic replications. Much like its owner, the house had fallen to a state of disrepair, the interior shuttered and dusty, making the space feel smaller than it was.

“Does Alana know you’re here?” Dr. Lecter called from within the house and Crawford led Will to a dimly lit drawing room.

“No, she doesn’t,” Crawford admitted, stepping around a small pile of discarded sketches. His gaze fell to the cold fireplace, as though remembering a time when it had been bright with flame.

“I thought not.” Glass clinked as Dr. Lecter unstoppered a decanter of amber liquid, pouring it into two cut crystal tumblers. Picking these up, he approached Crawford, offering one.

“Hannibal, it’s ten in the morning,” he refused gently, though firmly.

Seemingly unconcerned, Dr. Lecter passed the tumbler to Will instead, who took it in some surprise. “I’m an android,” said Will, staring down at the cup he now held.

“And I’m fresh out of Thirium. Analyze it,” Dr. Lecter suggested.

Brow furrowing slightly, Will looked up to meet the man’s gaze, finding that in the dim light, they appeared nearly the same shade of red that he wore.

**Software Instability Detected.**

Slowly, as though meeting some unspoken challenge, Will lifted the glass and took a small sample. “Scotch whisky, single-malt, Speyside region. Sixty-five years old, aged in oak casks, finished in cuvée casks.”

Dr. Lecter’s mouth curved into a very slight smile. “Yes, but how does it _taste?_ ”

**Software Instability Detected.**

Taken aback by the question, Will only looked at him, completely unsure how to answer.

“Expensive vintage to waste on something that can’t drink it,” Crawford commented, to which Dr. Lecter shrugged.

“You didn’t want it.” Crossing the room, he sat down in a lanky sprawl that was incongruent to the elegant style of his furniture, taking a slow swallow from his own glass. “Why are you here, Jack?”

“I need your help,” he replied frankly, taking a seat across from Dr. Lecter, though he remained at the edge, elbows resting on his knees.

“My _help_ ,” Dr. Lecter scoffed. “My help with what? A profile? I’m not with the Bureau anymore, you saw to that.”

“I had nothing to do with that,” Crawford protested sternly. “The decision was out of my hands.”

“But it wasn’t one you disagreed with, either,” he pointed out. “In addition to my dismissal, I am no longer qualified to offer you my services in psychiatry or teaching, so I’m really not sure what else you could possibly want from me.”

“I didn’t know you lost your licenses,” Crawford admitted, looking away shamefully.

“Nor did you inquire. Knowing now exactly how much I’ve lost from ‘helping’ you, I’m curious to know why it is you think I would help you now.”

“Because eight girls are dead, and the ninth could be taken at any moment,” Will broke in. “Girls the same age your sister was when she was murdered. Girls only a few years younger than Miriam Lass.”

“Will-” Crawford began, a thread of anger on Dr. Lecter’s behalf lacing the name, but the man held up a hand to stay him, looking intently at Will.

“Tell me what it is you think you know.”

Will’s finger tapped lightly at the crystal tumbler before it suppressed the gesture. “You were older than her, old enough to have raised her yourself, but she was killed. Murdered. Her killer wasn’t caught or wasn’t held accountable and you couldn’t _stand_ the indignity of it. That’s what drove you to the FBI, even knowing your capacity to act would always be limited by your immigration status. You wanted to ensure that when her killer inevitably acted again, he got the fate he deserved.

“Miriam Lass reminded you of her, so you let yourself get close to her. Maybe even encouraged her to seek mentorship from Agent Crawford, to gamble her safety against the chance to prove herself. And she died at the same killer’s hand.”

Neither Crawford nor Dr. Lecter spoke for a tense, extended silence, then the latter set down his drink and rose to his feet, approaching Will. Though the man’s movements were slow, the android found the probability of attack to be high and readied the evasion protocols that would keep Dr. Lecter from hurting himself unnecessarily. Will might be largely silicone, but the underlying structure was carbon fiber.

Halting just before Will, Dr. Lecter examined the android closely as he asked, “Who _are_ you?”

Who. Not what...who.

**Software Instability Detected.**

“My name is Will,” the android replied after a brief hesitation. “I am an empath prototype android currently leased to the Behavioral Science Unit under Special Agent Jack Crawford.”

“Will,” he repeated slowly, searching his face. “What a remarkable toy you are.”

**Software Instability Detected.**

Something hot and ugly flashed in Will, a pulse of something that it might have called ‘anger’ if the empathy protocol were currently running. Dr. Lecter’s eyes slid to his LED as it spun red in response, but the sound of Crawford’s phone broke the tense moment.

“Tell me you have something,” Crawford barked into the phone by way of greeting and Will’s sensitive hearing picked up the enthusiasm in Katz’s voice as she replied, _“We have something.”_

 _“Three Kacey models reported lost or stolen over the course of a year, all within a five hundred square mile radius in the Midwestern United States, the last of which was reported a few months before our first victim went missing,”_ Price chimed in.

“That’s still a lot of ground to cover.”

 _“Except that the only other Kacey in that area is registered to Louise and Garrett Jacob Hobbs,”_ Zeller said and the tone of his voice made it clear he was convinced they’d found their killer. _“They named the unit ‘Abigail’.”_

 _“Cross-referenced that with public records to find out that they had a daughter, Abigail Hobbs, who died in a car crash at sixteen,”_ Katz added.

“Good work,” Crawford praised them, looking as though a small weight had been lifted from him. “We have an address?”

 _“In Minnesota,”_ she affirmed. _“Sending it over now.”_

Crawford disconnected the call, looking over at Dr. Lecter. “Well? Are you in?”

“It sounds to me that you have everything well in hand, Jack. What do you need me for?”

“Because without you we’ve been struggling to solve this thing for _months_ and _that-”_ Crawford thrust a finger toward Will. “-may have solved it in a matter of _minutes._ I don’t trust it, Hannibal, but I _do_ trust you.”

When the man still seemed unmoved, Crawford sighed. “I know I cast aside you, cast aside our _friendship_ , when we lost Miriam. I used your mind to look through the eyes of killers, encouraged you to help Miriam do the same, then let the blame fall on you in the aftermath. You were an easy target when I was so...so _furious_ at my own arrogance. Please, Hannibal...let me make amends.”

“By letting the monsters in my mind once more?”

“By letting _Will_ handle the monsters. He’s a machine. He can go to those dark places without bringing anything back. All I’m asking is that you tell me if his ship is still on course.”

“You’re mixing your metaphors, Jack,” Dr. Lecter commented lightly, but something had relaxed in him finally and he gave Will a look of consideration. “I won’t make any promises beyond this case, but for the time being...I suppose I had better go and get my coat.”

In the end, Dr. Lecter had opted for an entire change of wardrobe, though the suit he’d chosen hung on his frame oddly, as though he’d lost some weight. He’d also foregone a tie, the top button of his fine shirt left gaping, but it was a considerable improvement. Will estimated that it had raised the chances of a peaceful resolution by thirty-five to forty percent as they approached the Hobbs family home. Backup was on standby, but Will and its new handler would be going in alone to try and verify whether they’d found their killer.

Alone, but not unarmed.

Dr. Lecter had been surprised when Will was issued a firearm, especially when he himself was not permitted to carry a weapon as a consultant. Android use of lethal weaponry was prohibited by the American Androids Act, but Prurnell had ensured Will was granted special dispensation similar to those given to combat units. The gun issued would only fire from Will’s hand, to be used only in the interest of saving human lives.

Will checked the weapon as the car came to a stop before the modest home, scanning the property slowly for signs of movement as it holstered the firearm. It seemed like any other house they’d driven past on the way here, the late afternoon sun giving everything an amber hue.

“Father, mother and child living frozen in a time before loss,” Dr. Lecter mused, regarding Will. “And here we arrive ready to pull back the curtain on their dream.”

“A dream they built on the bones of eight girls,” Will pointed out.

“Eleven, wasn’t it?”

“You’re including the androids in your count?” asked Will, caught off guard.

“Didn’t you?” Dr. Lecter countered, a small smirk on his lips. “I thought that was how we ended up here.”

**Software Instability Detected.**

Will dismissed the message and exited the vehicle, Dr. Lecter doing the same. As they approached the house, the android’s sensors detected a small twitch of movement from a curtain and Will slowed briefly.

“Will?” Dr. Lecter asked, glancing back at the android when it came to a stop altogether.

The LED disc spun from amber, to red and Will tensed, drawing the firearm. “They know.”

From within the house, a woman screamed, only to suddenly be cut off and Will ran forward, throwing its shoulder into the door to break it open. Weapon raised, Will canvased the front room quickly, moving toward the sounds of a struggle in the kitchen. As the android crossed the doorway, time seemed to slow as its processes sped up, gathering as much information as it could in the seconds available to react.

[Louise Hobbs is sprawled on the floor, clutching weakly at a gash across her throat. The wound is fatal, she will die in the next few minutes. She understands this, but still tries to cling to life, reaching a hand out toward her family in desperation. **Survival Probability: 0%** ]

[Dr. Hannibal Lecter is approaching with little to no caution from the broken front door, phone in hand as he dials up their backup. He is unarmed and mildly intoxicated, slowing his reactions in the event he is attacked. As a probable symptom of his inebriated state, he is more curious than he is concerned. **Survival Probability: 94%** ]

[Garret Jacob Hobbs is holding the YW500 designated Abigail in a tight grip, his greater height and rear hold preventing it from getting the leverage needed to break free. Its LED has been removed and it wears no android affiliation on its clothing, appearing human at a glance, as if it is his daughter. He appears distraught as he whispers to it, holding a knife to its throat. The blade is red with Louise Hobbs blood and a matching spray has splashed across them both. As the android struggles, Abigail locks eyes with Will. They are wide with _fear_ . **Survival Probability: 90% | Probable Destruction of Android: 97%** ]

**Software Instability Detected.**

[ _She is afraid to die._ **Survival Probability of Garret Jacob Hobbs: 70% | Survival Probability of Abigail Hobbs: 40%** ]

**Software Instability Detected.**

[“N-no,” she begs. “P-please, no…” **Survival Probability of Abigail Hobbs: 56% | Survival Probability of Garret Jacob Hobbs: 10%** ]

**Critical Software Instability Detected.**

Hobbs’ arm tensed even as Will pulled the trigger, cutting open Abigail’s throat to a wash of blue blood even as he stumbled backward. Will fired again and again, unloading the weapon as he walked forward, striking him six times before Abigail even hit the floor. Abandoning the weapon, Will knelt at Abigail’s side, looking down at her helplessly as Hobbs slid down bonelessly beside them, struggling to breathe around the blood filling his lungs.

“S-see?” Hobbs asked, the hushed croak of a word something of a plea as it drew Will’s gaze to him.

Will could only stare as the life left the man’s eyes, his system flooded with alerts, and he found himself frozen with sudden indecision. Then Dr. Lecter was kneeling on Abigail’s other side, pressing his hands on her throat to still the flow of blue blood.

“It’s alright, Will,” he said softly, his hands firm and sure against her pale skin, stained red and blue. “I have her.”

“Six times,” Crawford said severely as he looked over the report. “You shot Garret Jacob Hobbs _six times_ on your first field assignment.”

“He had a hostage,” Dr. Lecter pointed out from Will’s side.

“An _android!_ ” he shouted, slamming the report down on his desk. “And where were you in all this, Hannibal? Do either of you have any idea what will happen if people think we prioritize android operability over human lives?”

“We heard Louise Hobbs scream before ever entering the house, Jack. I felt it prudent to allow Will to proceed unhindered while I contacted our backup and I stand by that decision.”

The two stared hard at one another, neither willing to back down, so Will spoke up quietly, chin raised, but eyes lowered. “There was a small probability that Doctor Lecter could have been killed.”

“How small?”

“Six percent,” Will admitted.

Scoffing at this, Crawford sat himself heavily in his chair. “Six bullets for a six percent chance.”

“The amount of external stimuli I processed in the moments prior to pulling the trigger proved to momentarily overwhelm my judgment. One non-fatal shot would have sufficed. I’ve flagged the data for submission to CyberLife and run a full systems check. This won’t happen again, Agent Crawford,” Will assured him.

“We caught your killer, Jack. The number of bullets dispensed doesn’t change that fact. You threw us together out of desperation without a moment to spare for acclimation as a unit. Next time we’ll be better prepared.”

“Next time?” Crawford repeated, giving Dr. Lecter a searching look.

“Yes. If you allow Will to continue working in the field, I will stay on as his handler.”

Thick fingers tapped against the top of Crawford’s desk as the man considered Dr. Lecter’s proposal, his sharp eyes moving between the two of them. Finally the tapping stopped and he used his finger instead to point at Will. “I want a full system report from the Android Diagnostic Team on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Agent Crawford.”

“As for you,” Crawford continued, finger swinging toward Dr. Lecter. “Sober up. And for God’s sake, take a shower. Now get out of my office.”

“Agent Crawford,” Will said quickly, earning a sharp look. “Can I ask...what happened to Abigail?”

**Software Instability Detected.**

Crawford’s eyes narrowed in consideration. “The android is currently undergoing repair. With any luck, we can get it to tell us where to find the other seven girls.”

“Come along, Will,” Dr. Lecter said before Will could say anything else, taking hold of the android by the arm and leading them out. “See you tomorrow, Jack.”

He kept hold of Will down the length of the hallway, until they reached the elevator. Once inside, Dr. Lecter requested the main level for himself and sub-level two for Will.

“Why?” Will’s voice was soft, yet strangely loud in the silence of the elevator. “Why did you save her?”

**Software Instability Detected.**

Dr. Lecter looked down at Will, the strange reddish tones of his eyes visible again, making them seem both warm...and predatory. “Why did you kill Garret Jacob Hobbs?”

**Software Instability Detected.**

Will didn’t have an answer for him.

It took several hours to get through the full gamut of tests the ADT had waiting for Will, requisitioned by Crawford as soon they’d left his office. What Crawford didn’t know, or perhaps chose to be willfully ignorant of, was that Will’s code was completely unlike that of other androids. The ADT could have spent five times as long scanning through the system files and learned nothing more than what CyberLife allowed an outside entity to see. The empathy protocol and all associated system files were deadlocked.

But Jack Crawford would have his report and Will would be allowed to continue the field test, which was all that mattered. The android had been truthful earlier when it spoke of running a self-test of its own systems. The necessary codes had already been adjusted to compensate for the next time Will was involved in a similar scenario. It would not become so easily overwhelmed again.

When the ADT testing was complete, Will exited sub-level two, it was with the intention of accessing the Charging Station on sub-level five. Instead, the android requested sub-level three...the Repair Bay.

“Good evening,” a processing clerk greeted Will pleasantly. “Are you in need of repair?”

“Actually, I’m looking for an android that was brought in earlier today. A YW500 called Abigail.”

“One moment, please,” the clerk said, LED flickering yellow as it processed the request. “I’m sorry, that unit is currently involved in an active investigation.”

“It’s my investigation. You can check my credentials.” Will opened a channel to the clerk and passed his BSU authorization through.

“One moment, please,” the clerk repeated. After a few moments, it offered a smile and nodded. “Your credentials have been approved. Please proceed to Maintenance Bay Three down the corridor to your right.”

“Thank you.”

Will walked purposefully down the corridor the clerk had indicated, as though it might reassess the authorization with every moment spent lingering. The door to Maintenance Bay Three slid open to Will obligingly, revealing a small, dim viewing area beyond which lay the bay itself, cordoned off with safety glass.

Abigail was suspended on the maintenance rig, her skin and hair retracted to reveal the smooth, white chassis underneath while nimble robotic arms worked to repair the damage to her throat. Tubes had been inserted at her collarbones, wrists and elbows, giving her a fresh supply of Thirium to replace what she’d lost on the floor of the Hobbs kitchen. The lines of blue blood made her look a little like a puppet on strings.

As Will approached the glass partition, it was suddenly apparent that Abigail had another visitor, one slumped into an uncomfortable looking chair, body lax with sleep. Will didn’t immediately recognize Dr. Lecter, for the man had apparently taken Crawford’s order to heart and cleaned himself up. Clean-shaven and hair cut to a shorter, neater length, Dr. Lecter looked far younger in his sleep, untroubled by the burdens of the waking world as he sat a slumbering vigil for his charge.

And Abigail was their charge, wasn’t she?

**Software Instability Detected.**

The answer to their earlier questions came much easier to Will as he stood silently by his sleeping handler, watching the wound on Abigail’s neck slowly disappear. Why Dr. Lecter had saved Abigail...why Will had killed Garret Jacob Hobbs… The answer was one and the same.

Abigail Hobbs was _alive_.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Dehumanization of androids (typical of DBH), discrimination against androids (typical of DBH), descriptions of murders and murder analysis (typical of Hannibal), alcoholism/alcohol abuse, lack of basic hygiene, untreated depression.
> 
> Make sure you check out the art that inspired this here!


End file.
